by Kit Morgan
Lorelei stared at the old woman. If Shona had given it to her, Grandma must need it a lot more than her. “No, I can’t. You keep it.”
“I insist.”
She put the vial into Grandma’s hands. “No. She gave it to you for a reason. I’m fine – I’ve been fine for days.”
Grandma smiled at her. “Well if you’re sure.” She nodded, turned and went back upstairs.
Jefferson sighed in relief. “Grandma can be stubborn as a mule. What you did was kind. I know she needs whatever that stuff is – Mrs. MacDonald brings her some once a year.”
Lorelei gaped at him in disbelief. “That little vial lasts her all year?”
“It must. Everyone knows the MacDonalds bring herbs and medicines here for Doc Drake and Doc Waller to use. But they make a special batch for Grandma.”
Lorelei stayed quiet as Grandma came down the stairs again and they left the house. Who were the MacDonalds? Time travelers, landowners, dealers in herbal medicine … where (and when) did they come from? And what were they trying to do?
She decided not to think about it – it just made her feel overwhelmed and confused. She didn’t want to fall into a state where she couldn’t think straight – she’d had enough of that the first few days here. She had to keep her head, and that meant doing normal everyday things like the dishes, cooking, bringing in wood and having tea with a man she’d become far too attracted to and an old lady who got her prescriptions from time travelers … she put a hand to her head. That part wasn’t going to help!
“Are you okay?” Jefferson asked as they reached the hotel.
She shrugged helplessly. “Yes and no.”
He opened the door for Grandma, let her go inside then stopped Lorelei before she could follow. “You can talk to me, Lorelei. You can trust me – I’m here for you.”
Her heart melted at the gentleness of his voice, the concern in his eyes. He was being as sincere as anyone could be. She wanted to throw her arms around him and hang on until she woke up and discovered it was all a dream. But her dream was looking into her eyes, imploring her to say something. “Thank you, Jeff.”
He stepped closer. They were almost touching. “Remember what Doc Drake said?”
She shook her head, her gaze fusing with his.
He leaned toward her, so close she could feel the brush of his breath on her cold cheeks. “Don’t be afraid, Lorelei. Please don’t be afraid.”
Her jaw trembled and she swallowed hard. “Oh, Jeff … that’s easier said than done.”
Chapter Seventeen
Jefferson wanted to take Lorelei in his arms and hold her. She had that look in her eyes again, the frightened one that tore his heart out. She did her best to keep it hidden, looking away when she thought no one would notice. Sometimes she wiped her eyes or nose. She had a funny way of twisting a strand of her hair with her fingers when she was nervous, and he caught her more than once staring at the prairie from the window at the end of the hall. She was so … lost.
But he had no idea how to help her. What do you do for a girl who was born a century after you? The MacDonalds were responsible for her sadness, her fear, everything she tried to hide from everyone. But he knew, even if the rest of his family didn’t. He knew because when she was frightened, he felt it as if it were his own. But he had nothing to be afraid of – he had his family, his health. There was nothing out of the ordinary to cause him or anyone else alarm … except her.
“Let’s sit at that table in the corner,” Grandma said. “I think we’ll need some privacy.”
They walked over and Jefferson pulled a chair out for Grandma, got her seated, then did the same for Lorelei. He smiled when he noticed she’d waited for him this time. He’d tried to do it at home a few times, but she always sat before he had a chance.
“Thank you,” she said softly as she scooted her chair closer to the table.
“You’re welcome.” He sat himself. Grandma had picked a smaller table that only seated four, where most in the dining room could hold six to eight. Very cozy.
“Well, hello!” Sally said cheerfully as she approached their table. “Here for tea?”
“We sure are,” Grandma said. “Got any pie this afternoon?”
“Yes, apple. And the usual other goodies.” She turned to Jefferson and Lorelei. “How about you? Would you like anything in particular to go with your tea?”
“Do you have chocolate cake?” Jefferson asked.
“Sure do!” Sally made everyone smile.
Jefferson smiled too. “What else do you have?”
“Oh, honey, we got cake and pie and cookies and scones. Take your pick or have a little of this and that.”
Lorelei’s smile widened. “Anything chocolate.”
“One slice of apple pie and two of chocolate cake. Be right back with those!” She hurried back to the kitchen.
“She’ll bring out a tea cart with more goodies than we want,” Grandma said. “She always does.”
Lorelei smiled again, and Jefferson’s heart swelled. How could such a simple thing as a smile entrance him so? He did his best not to let his eyes roam over her, but she was so beautiful. She’d kept her hair in two thick braids tied with red velvet ribbon since her arrival, and he wondered how it would look loose and flowing down her back. Her eyes were the prettiest he’d ever seen, and he liked the way they slanted slightly upwards. High cheekbones, a lovely mouth.
And best of all, her voice. Did she have any idea that every time she spoke his limbs grew weak? It first happened a couple of days ago, and since with increasing frequency. It was all he could do to get through play practice.
What in the Sam Hill was wrong with him? Was he … falling in love? But how did one know if they were? Besides, falling in love was all about a man’s heart, not his body. Or maybe it was all connected. Even his heart felt funny when she was around. Like it wanted out. As if given the choice, it would leave him and go to her, merging, becoming one …
“Jefferson!”
He yelped and jumped in his chair. “What?!”
Grandma frowned. “I said, tell your father when you see him that Doc and I accepted Belle’s invitation to join you on New Year’s. You’ll probably see him before she does. I’ll bring a pie.”
“Oh, uh, yeah,” he said, then blew out a quick breath and glanced at Lorelei. What was she doing to him?!
Sally came back into the dining room, pushing a tea cart. “Here we are!” She began to lay everything out on the table: cups, saucers, plates, a teapot and a tray filled with slices of cake and pie, scones and some cookies. “You let me know if you need anything else.” She turned and went to greet an older couple just coming into the dining room.
“Well, if it isn’t Cutty and Imogene.” Grandma waved them over. “Jefferson, fetch another chair. Lorelei should meet them.”
“More relatives,” Jefferson explained. Dadgum, would he ever get a chance to just talk to her one-on-one?
“Oh.” Lorelei studied the couple as they approached. Jefferson could tell her smile was forced – he didn’t “feel” it as he had earlier. Maybe she was as frustrated as he was.
“Grandma!” The old man gave her a hug, then turned to Lorelei. “And who is this?”
“This is Colin and Belle’s house guest, Miss Lorelei Carson,” Grandma said. “Lorelei, this is Cutty and Imogene Holmes. They live several hours ride out of town. Needless to say, we don’t see them as often as when Imogene lived out at the Triple-C years back and Cutty lived at the men’s camp. Once they got hitched, that was the end of that.”
Lorelei smiled again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Jefferson knew he should look at the Holmeses, but his eyes were glued to Lorelei. He sensed it was all she could do to hold herself together. And it was probably his fault for dragging her here. She needed help, lots of help – he knew it with every fiber of his being and had known it almost since she arrived – almost as if he could read her thoughts. But he didn’t know how to help, a
nd that made being near her downright unbearable.
Cutty and Imogene sat and began to visit with Grandma. The extra chair at the table meant Jefferson had to scoot closer to Lorelei. He poured her a cup of tea, reached for the sugar bowl, spooned some into her cup and gave it a stir without even thinking.
“My my,” Imogene said. “I dare say I can’t get Cutty to give me such service.”
“Pah!” Cutty scoffed. “I do plenty.”
“True, but not with that look in your eye.”
Lorelei blushed as Jefferson’s ears turned to flame. Caught! “I was only being polite,” he insisted.
“Is that so?” Grandma grinned at Lorelei. “As an aside, did you know that Cutty and Imogene write books together?” She gave Jefferson a pointed look. “They’re considering writing a romance.”
Lorelei sank lower in her chair.
Cutty snorted as his eyes darted between them. “Yep, and I’m sure it’ll scandalize the town.”
“Cutty!” Imogene smacked him in the chest. “Don’t say such things.”
“Well, either the book will or young Jeff here.” Cutty winked at Lorelei.
Jefferson made sure to look at the table. His distant cousins were older, and he usually enjoyed their company, but oh, not right now. He didn’t want Lorelei to think he was sweet on her and run away.
But of course, he was sweet on her, definitely. And if these three could see it, not to mention Owen, who else had? He’d just figured it out, but this wasn’t like anything he knew of – he didn’t have any experience with women.
Thankfully their three elderly chaperones started to talk about the Christmas play and Uncle Harrison’s trip to Washington Territory, basically ignoring he and Lorelei. “They’re English?” Lorelei whispered.
“Yes, very.”
“I like their accents. I’ve always liked accents.”
He smiled – did she like his too? His was very slight, but it was there. “Imogene is a distant cousin. And Cutty’s real name is Thackary – my brother was named after him.”
She smiled again, and his heart warmed. How did that happen? He swallowed hard. “He was badly burned years ago. Imogene helped nurse him back to health, they fell in love and the rest is history.”
Her eyes filled with admiration. “That’s awesome.”
He leaned as close as he dared. “You always have such an interesting choice of words.”
She blushed. “Thank you. I guess the language changes a little over time.”
“I guess so.” He then asked in a low voice, “Where did you go to school?”
“Clear Creek High School,” she whispered. “A public school – free to attend. Go Cowboys!” She stopped and thought before adding, “Schools in my time have mascots … um, symbols that represent the school, usually animals or something. But Clear Creek High’s is a cowboy.”
“That kind of makes sense,” he mused. “Since our ranch is still around, and you said our family is still pretty important …”
Then she looked at him, their eyes locked, and for a moment he felt … no, it went beyond feeling. It was more like he heard her say something, without her opening her mouth. It was unclear, distorted, like the time he yelled at Sam and Thackary when they were underwater in the swimming hole. They yelled back but none of them could understand more than a word or two of what the other was saying. What he could make out was “I wish …” Wish what, though?
“Do you ever think of leaving Clear Creek?” she asked softly. “Seeing other places?”
He gazed more deeply into her eyes, surprised no one had scolded him yet. But Grandma was busy telling Imogene and Cutty about his father’s failed attempts at livening up the part of Joseph in the play. “I’d like to. Someday.”
“When?”
His eyebrows rose at the question. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure I’d know where to go.”
She closed her eyes momentarily, breaking the contact, and turned toward Grandma, taking a sip of tea as if it could wash away the fear he sensed rising in her again. When would it stop? What caused it? And more importantly, why could he feel it? Maybe he was hearing his own thoughts and not hers. Seriously, how could he hear hers? That was impossible. But then, so was traveling to the past, yet here she was.
And he found he believed her about that, believed her implicitly. There was no question in his mind that she was exactly what she said she was: a girl from the 21st century stranded in the 19th. It went beyond her odd use of the language and strange shoes and her recognition of Mr. Mulligan, went beyond any physical evidence. He knew it like he knew to breathe – too deep in his heart and mind to even find its roots.
He’d mostly wanted to finagle information from Lorelei, what her time was like and how people lived and had they found men on the Moon yet or not. But the longer he sat next to her, the more questions he had about what was happening to him when she was near. Did she feel it too? Who could he talk to about this? Did he dare even try? Land sakes, people would think he’d gone loco or something.
So he continued to sit and pretend none of this was happening, but there was no denying it. He kept it to himself, but was that the right thing to do? Should he discuss it with Lorelei, or would it frighten her? She seemed upset after he told her not to be afraid, that he was there for her. But he felt so strongly about it that if he didn’t say anything, he worried his heart would burst.
But for now, he could watch and learn. Maybe he’d find an answer on his own. At least no one would think he’d gone ‘round the bend, including Lorelei. But how was he going to stop this, whatever it was, from growing? He hadn’t slept well recently and wasn’t touching Rosie’s delicious cake now – he had no appetite. He’d heard when a man falls in love, he has a hard time eating and sleeping – was that the reason?
Jefferson shoved his plate away, picked up his teacup and took a sip, while watching Lorelei out the corner of his eye. He’d figure this out eventually. He just hoped for his sake it was sooner than later.
* * *
Lorelei couldn’t stop her heart from pounding. Grandma was enjoying her visit with the Holmeses. The only thing she could think to say at the time was how she liked listening to their accents. What she’d really been thinking was how she liked listening to Jeff, but she couldn’t tell him that.
Ever since he stopped her at the doors of the hotel and told her not to be afraid, her heart was doing all sorts of weird things. Something happened in that moment, but what? How could there be a connection like this between them, when she was from another century?
At least he seemed to believe her – most people wouldn’t. H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine wouldn’t be published for another sixteen years – she knew that from the book report she wrote on it in Mr. Frank’s English Lit class. She was still annoyed he gave her a B instead of the A she thought she deserved. But she didn’t think anyone had ever addressed time travel before then … and here she was, living it. Better no one else know, lest she be locked up as a lunatic. That six people did already seemed like too many for comfort.
But that didn’t distress her right now as much as her reactions to Jeff. She tried to make sense of the way her mind and heart seemed to be separating, as if part of her wanted to stay here, in 1879, with him. Jeff helped. He calmed her. He made her feel … cherished, as if she was the only person in the world he cared about. The way he looked at her, his closeness … and when he told her not to be afraid, she thought she might die of happiness. Something in her made her want to never leave him.
But would she be willing to get stuck in this place forever? Never to see her own world again?
She stole little glances of Jefferson as he watched Grandma speak with his other relations. She’d never had a boy speak to her the way he did. She never wanted one to, not really. When they had, it was usually some kind of prank Cindy or Heather had set up. But the mean girls from school weren’t here. No one she knew was here to tell these people what a loser they thought she was.
She kept sipping her tea, just to give herself something to do. What if she did stay? What if she never went back?
Her eyes drifted to Jefferson, who was quietly listening to his elders’ conversation. He’d hardly touched his cake. He must not have been as hungry as he thought. She’d devoured hers – chocolate always helped when she was stressed. And right now, she was as stressed as they came.
What was she doing, thinking of staying? Was she crazy? How could she survive in a place like this? They didn’t call it the Wild West for nothing. And having to live with no internet, no running water, no flush toilets? She knew from history class that Clear Creek didn’t get electricity until around 1909 – was she willing to go the next thirty years without it?
But what if she had help? What if the Cookes and Jefferson were willing to teach her everything she needed to survive? They’d already started, and she’d been learning quickly. They didn’t think she was loony – or at least didn’t let on. Maybe she could even help them by letting them know about coming events. Her knowledge of the 1880s and 1890s was spotty at best, but she knew more than they did.
And Clear Creek had its share of weirdness already that people seemed to tolerate – Lorcan Brody and his extra sense, for example. Or the way they treated Doc Drake, as if he had special healing powers. Maybe she could be just another of the town’s lovable freaks. It certainly beat being an unloved freak in her own time. And few people in this time period believed in witches, or not enough to burn them at the stake.
But even if she wanted to stay, that didn’t factor in the MacDonalds. What did they plan on doing with her when they returned, if they returned at all? She still didn’t know why they took her in the first place. Everyone here trusted them, true, but lots of people trusted Hitler at one time. That wasn’t enough.
She swallowed hard. Should she stay? Should she leave? Could she leave? Where would she go? The questions kept coming harder and faster until she thought she might scream.
That’s when Jefferson reached over, took her hand from her lap, looked her in the eye and whispered, “Lorelei, stop. Whatever it is, just stop.”